


Myosotis

by Batwynn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, First Love, Frostiron Month, M/M, Magic, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/pseuds/Batwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written -somewhat- for the frostiron Month prompt: firsts. </p><p>Tony walks right up to Loki, and asks him who he is like the god hasn't been living in the tower with him for the past two years. Like they aren't lovers, like he's never even seen him before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myosotis

  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"  
  
He thought it was a poor joke, and that was not something that typically happened with Anthony. Perhaps it was something Stark imagined up in the middle of the night to keep his boredom at bay. But, unlike all his other pranks, which were usually more sly and a lot sillier, this was actually somewhat hurtful. Nothing Loki couldn't handle, of course, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.  
  
"Very amusing, Anthony, I suppose you think you are quite the comedian," Loki sneered.  
  
Anthony narrowed his eyes a fraction. "I might, but there's nothing funny about having a god damn stranger in my house." He crossed his arms, he repeated, "who are you and how the fuck did you get in here?"  
  
Loki's already short patience burnt out. It really wasn't funny.  
  
"You know who I am well and fine, now stop this charade, we had plans for today."  
  
"I think I would remember someone as tall and menacing as you," Tony replied, his eyes sliding over Loki's body. He didn't bother to hide his appreciation for the god's figure, but in that moment it only served to anger Loki more.  
  
"Stark, enough!" he barked, stalking closer to the mortal.  
  
Anthony frowned, looked behind him, turned back, and blinked.

"What? Stark what? Contrast? Naked? I think these fabric things on my body are clothes, so..."  
  
Loki's lip curled, and he slammed the man against the wall, not caring when the mortal's head bounced against it. "I tire of this _game_."  
  
"I... ow..." Anthony muttered, looking more confused now than he did when he first walked into the room and spotted Loki. His expression then had been closer to curiosity, now it was almost fear.  
  
"Anthony, please stop this, I do not find it amusing in the least," he hissed, his anger dissipating at the panicked look in his lover's eyes. Anthony never looked at him like that, at least, not for a long while.  
  
"Why do you keep calling me that?" The man asked, meeting Loki's eyes with his usual show of stubbornness. "That's not my name."  
  
Something cold started to coil in Loki's stomach, and he found his voice hitching as he asked the dreaded question, "... what is your name?"  
  
Anthony opened his mouth, ready to fire back an answer immediately. Only, nothing came forth, and his eyes widened, and widened, until barely a drop of golden brown was left to surround his blown pupils.  
  
His stared at Loki until he finally managed to clear his throat, and say, almost sheepishly, "actually, I don't know."  
  


* * *

  
The atmosphere was extremely awkward, if not a little intimidating. It didn't help that his mind felt oddly empty, sort of like a wrung out towel or some other simile to do with empty, flat, blank, maybe even squished. He felt like something should be happening up there, pistons firing, some gears turning. Only, they weren't, and it didn't help the uneasiness he felt as the group of people stared at him and talked as though he wasn't there.  
  
"It's a joke."  
  
"Not a very good one."  
  
"He _has_ to be joking, this is Tony we're talking about."  
  
"You're right," Bruce said dryly, gesturing to him, "this _is_ Tony we're taking about, and when have you ever known him to be so quiet? Especially when there's people talking about him."  
  
The others fell silent and turned to stare at him, yet again.  
  
He decided to try to join in, at the very least, to avoid more awkward silences. "So it's Tony now, not Anthony?"  
  
"Oh dear god, he's not joking,"Clint breathed, looking desperately at Natasha. "Can't you cognitive re-cala-something him? Hit him in the head!"  
  
"I don't think that will—" the red-head began, only to be interrupted by Bruce.  
  
"Do not hit him in the head, whatever you do. That could make it worse, whatever this is."  
  
Tony, or Anthony, whoever he was, glanced at the taller, dark-haired man who remained lurking in the corner. Everyone else had introduced themselves to Tony but him, and for some unknown reason that was gnawing at the back of his head. At least something was happening in there, even if it was irritating.  
  
The man spared him a guilty smile and looked away again, his green eyes fluttering closed in a flash of pain. Tony, Anthony—he wasn’t sure he like either of those names— wanted to reach out and sooth him. It was strange, considering how the man had greeted him originally. All anger and head smashing, until he said he didn't know who he was and then it was blank expressions and turning away. Why did this guy look so hurt about this, he wasn't the one with no identity. Speaking of...  
  
"Can I change my name, since I don't have one?" He asked, turning back to the others.  
  
"You do have a name," the captain Steve person reminded, "it's _Tony._ "  
  
"Right, but I don't know who that is, so why can't I use something else? I like Charles, or maybe Rodger."  
  
The man named Clint snorted loudly and glanced away when everyone glared at him.  
  
"You can't just change your name, you'll have to remember it eventually."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
The captain's jaw tensed in irritation, and Tony felt a prick of satisfaction from it.  
  
 _Huh, so I like the dark-haired, mopey dude, and dislike this one? That doesn't seem right, at least this guy is acknowledging me._  
  
"Tony, please, can we just deal with this without the usual song and dance routine?"  
  
Tony's amusement died pretty quickly. "'Usual', you say. Funny, since I don't know what's _usual_ for me."  
  
Bruce stepped forward, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Steve, let me talk to him one on one. I think this whole group intervention thing is making him uncomfortable."  
  
Tony decided right then and there that he liked this man the best, and named him 'best friend #1' until proven otherwise.  
  
"Alright," Steve agreed reluctantly, casting a look back at Tony. "Just... call us if you need anything."  
  
They all shuffled out of the room, the largest of the blondes glancing back at the sulking figure in the corner.  
  
"Lo—"  
  
" _Silence_ ," the man snapped, pulling himself out of the shadows and joining him. His eyes landed on Tony for another brief moment, and he found himself smiling almost apologetically. The man looked more pained from that, and brushed past the guy— was it Toro? Thorny?—leaving the room without a second look back.  
  
"My apologies, Man of Iron. My brother does not take such things well."  
  
Tony blinked at him a few times and made a face. "Okay, firstly, Man of Iron? How many goddamn names do I have? And secondly, you two are related? You look nothing alike, not even your noses."  
  
"He's adopted."  
  
"That explains a lot," Tony muttered sarcastically, looking at the door with a confusing swell of hope that the dark-haired man had returned. "Can you tell him i'm sorry, for whatever it was I did wrong?"  
  
Tork, or Thong replied with a large smile, "I shall! He will be pleased to know you still care for him, even in your condition."  
  
"'Still' care for him?" Tony asked slowly, that weird ache filling his chest just like it did every other time they reminded him of things the real him did or did not know.  
  
Bruce, his #1 friend, gave the blonde a look and shooed him out. Tony ducked his head, avoiding the other man's gaze as he tried to gather himself together again. It was kind of impossible, when there wasn't anything about him to gather.  
  
  
"Tony... relax," the calm voice ordered, and he looked up to see Bruce sitting across from him with a small, worried smile.  
  
He smiled back automatically, and took a deep breath. "Relaxing, I can do that without memories, I think."  
  
"Can you tell me what you do remember?"  
  
Tony made a face, and tried to get those gears working again. What _did_ he remember? Words, he knew how to talk, he knew the names of objects like a chair, or an Aston Martin DB9. He knew what coffee was, he knew who was currently president, he knew that this was his home, but everything personal was gone.  
  
"I guess I know basic stuff," he began slowly, picking at the scuffed knees of his jeans. "Like, I know how to human, to function, but I don't know anything about myself or you guys."  
  
"Do you understand _F = m dot * Ve + (pe - p0) * Ae_?"  
  
"Do I... what the hell was that? Are you just fucking with me now?"  
  
Bruce's smile slipped away, and Tony could almost see the mental note he was making. Clearly, he had miss-stepped just now.  
  
"That's the basic formula for thrust, rocket thrust. You should know that by heart."  
  
Tony scowled, and sunk back into the couch. He should know a lot of things, like, apparently, he was a rocket scientist. He didn't appreciate the underhanded way of proving that he didn't know what he was, like the guy was afraid of asking him directly. Maybe he had jumped the gun on the #1 friend spot.  
  
"Don't worry, Tony, we'll figure this out together."  
  
"Maybe I don't want to," Tony snapped, pushing himself out of the couch and stomping off to the door. He paused, hit by another wave of that miserable ache in his chest. "Where's my room?"  
  
"You have a... well, an entire floor," Bruce replied uneasily, standing up to join him. Tony started backing away out of the room, not wanting to be near this guy anymore. He was feeling cornered, and really fucking alone. They didn't want him, they wanted the other him, and every pitying look made him hate his empty mind a little more.  
  
"Floor, then. Tell me what floor."  
  
"Penthouse..."  
  
Tony nodded and all but ran down the hallway, escaping to the elevator and jabbing the button as hard as he could.  
  
"Sir," a cool, British voice spoke from no where, "shall I lock the elevator from your floor once you have arrived?"  
  
Tony ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends of it harshly "I don't know. I don't know who you are... I don't know who _I_ am."  
  
There was a long silence as the elevator rose and stopped, doors opening to a wide, classy looking room living room.  
  
"You are yourself, sir," the voice said at last, "and I have locked the doors and elevator for your privacy."  
  
Tony let out a weak sob, even as he smiled, and decided that this disembodied voice was now friend #1.

* * *

  
  
It was no joke, no game, no simple jest to amuse himself. Anthony, _his_ Anthony, had forgotten him. He had forgotten himself, and Loki could not decide which made him more nauseous, the loss of the love in Anthony's eyes, or the panicked emptiness as he tried to recall who he was.  
  
It was so sickening, in fact, that Loki had been forced to rush to the bathroom before he vomited on the hallway carpeting. Thor had tried to follow him, filled with kind intentions and soothing words. Loki wanted nothing of it, he wanted Anthony's hand on his shoulder, Anthony's voice in his ear.  
  
He screamed, vomited more, and then screamed, and screamed, and screamed.  
  
He stopped, only when blood joined the bile, and his body simply could not produce anymore sound. It was very unlike him, he knew, to react so openly and loudly. He could blame Anthony for that, for drawing out an honesty in him that he never knew he possessed. The man had him answering in truths more often than lies, had him saying things he never would say otherwise.  
  
One thing Loki had never said, was that he loved him, no matter how often the words formed at the tip of his tongue. It happened in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of them and the universe gave them peace. It happened the first time Anthony came back from a battle and didn't greet him because he was bloodied and unconscious in Roger's arms. It happened when he would walk by a room and hear Anthony talking to one of the others about Loki as though he was more than just a god, as though he was _everything_.  
  
All the countless times he had almost said it, and now Anthony was gone. His body was there, as some cruel reminder of what he once was, but his mind held nothing of the man he loved. Anthony was but a memorial, a stone image of one once living, and now dead.  
  
Loki forced his body away from the bathroom, and eventually found himself curled up in a room he had spent very little time in, previously. When he had gotten here, or if Thor had brought him in, he did not know, but somehow the dark, spicy smelling room gave him comfort. It was his brother's room, with covered windows, furs, and the smell of old wood, honey, and paprika filling his senses. It felt like home, his old home, and for something he no longer rejoiced in, it was exactly what he needed right now. He needed something different, something old, and familiar at the same time.  
  
"Brother..."  
  
Loki did not raise his head from his knees, but waved a lazy hand in his direction to bid him to continue.  
  
"He asked me to apologize to you, for what, he did not know, but he feels he has hurt you."  
  
"He hasn't," Loki rasped, his throat raw from abuse.  
  
"He has, even if it was unintentional."  
  
" _He_ hasn't, not him. It is..." Loki trailed off, lifting his head to gaze blankly at his brother. "This thing, whatever it may be, this _thing_ has hurt me, not him."  
  
Thor knelt before him, and wisely did not try to lay his hands on Loki again. "Then you must fight this thing, Loki. It is not like you to give up so soon, or ever. Where is that stubborn brother of mine? Where is the man who never lets go of what he desires?"  
  
"Gone," Loki whispered, "gone with Anthony."  
  
Thor huffed and suddenly Loki was being jerked to his feet. "A lie, Loki, and a weak one at that. Go fight for the man who has given you everything. Do you not owe him that much?"  
  
Loki glared at him for a long moment before something of a smile formed on his lips. His oaf of a brother, the foolish one, giving him better advice than he could have given himself. Things had, indeed, changed.  
  


* * *

  
  
Tony jumped well over a foot in the air when a body appeared next to him. He might have also squealed like a little girl and ran to hide behind the stools by the kitchen counter.  
  
He had _just_ started to feel comfortable enough to explore the penthouse that was, apparently, his very own. He had noted the signs that it wasn't just his, however. Different styles of clothing in the closet, two toothbrushes, two offices even. It was obvious someone shared his living space, and Tony had begun to wonder just who it was, and why they weren't here with him. He had also started to get hungry, and it had taken a few mental reminders that this wasn't someone else's kitchen, and that he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted. At least, that's what he intended to do until sudden-person-popping-into-existence-next-to-him set him back twenty years.  
  
"Anthony, you need not fear me."  
  
Tony popped his head over the counter as soon as he heard the cool voice he might have

—somewhat—consciously wanted to hear for a while now.  
  
"Oh, it's you, Dracula."  
  
The man froze, and Tony wondered if he had made a mistake again. Of course he did, he had no idea what he usually did or said, or what lines he could or could not cross.  
  
"You... you gave me a nickname..." the man mumbled slowly.  
  
"Well, you didn't exactly introduce yourself."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
And that one little word held more despair and disappointment than should be possible for something with only two letters. Tony was across the kitchen and wrapping his arms around the man before his mind could even process what he was doing. Oddly enough, he didn't let go, even when he realized he was hugging a perfect stranger. Even more oddly, the stranger hugged him back, hard.  
  
"I'm sorry," Tony muttered into his shoulder. "I'm not doing this on purpose, and I don't even know why I have to apologize, but I just have to."  
  
"I know," came a muffled voice by his ear. "You do not know me now, yet you seem to still care for me."  
  
"I do," Tony admitted, surprised at himself. He pulled back and looked the man in the eye, searching for something and finding only sadness. "You're the one, the one who lives here with me."  
  
He nodded in response, a weak smile crossing his face so quickly, Tony almost missed it. Long fingers traced his jaw, and Tony felt a blush crawl up his neck at the affection in the touch.  
  
Okay, so obviously if they're living together, they're not just friends. It was still weird being looked at so lovingly by someone he didn't know. Well, almost knew. Every touch, every word felt so familiar to him, like somewhere beyond the blank wall in his mind, a name was screaming at him.  
  
"Who _are_ you?"  
  
The hand fell away, and the man answered with a question, "what is the last thing you remember before you found me?"  
  
Tony scrunched up his face, not pleased at being ignored, and tried to remember. "Uh, I think I woke up in bed... yeah, I sort of just woke up and wandered around until I saw you. It's like I didn't even notice my brain was missing until I laid eyes on you."  
  
Green eyes widened, and the body in Tony's arms jerked away suddenly.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
"Sleeping? You were... so last night..." The man's mouth opened and closed as he looked for words. "Oh by the _Norns_..."  
  
"By the what? And what's wrong, dammit?!"  
  
"This is all my fault," he said softly, eyes fixed on Tony's face with a mask of horror. " _I_ did this to you."  
  
Instead of feeling angry, or even scared, Tony felt pity. He really did care about this guy, then, because he was pretty sure if any of those other people said the same thing, he would be freaking out.  
  
"What did you do?" He asked softly, reaching out for the man who didn't move away, even as he started talking again.

 

" I... I have nightmares, sometimes. Bad ones, something only you seemed to understand. But I had decided to try to grant myself some relief last night, and rid myself of them."  
  
"You can do that?"  
  
Loki shook his head sadly. "It appears not. I believe I may have wiped your mind, instead."  
  
Tony stared at him, running over the information in his mind.  
  
Magic, apparently, was a player in this. So, maybe he could magically get his identity back? Did this guy really have such bad nightmares that he had to try to magic them away? Does this mean he was living with a wizard? Also, they slept together... that was definitely more than friends, then.  
  
"Okay... so, we can fix this, right?  
  
"I do not know, I would have to recreate the situation and try a reversed spell to even attempt to fix it."  
  
"So, what, lay down in bed while you do your voodoo?"  
  
The man's nose wrinkled at this, and he grasped Tony's hand in his, pulling him away from the kitchen and down the hall. When the reached the bedroom, Tony tried not to get embarrassed as he looked at the bed. Really, was his real self such a blushing virgin?  
  
Another look over at his companion’s body told him no, he most certainly was _not_. Not with that body sleeping next to him every night.  
  
"You do not have to strip bare, but do make yourself as comfortable as possible," he man directed, opening the covers and crawling in himself before lifting them with a patent look.  
  
"I assume I usually go commando, then?" Tony asked, pulling off his shirt but leaving his pants. He was about to crack a joke, when he looked down at his chest and gasped. "Oh my fucking... _what the fuck is this_?!"  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"This!" He squawked, tapping the round, metal thing on his chest. No, _in_ his chest. Tony shuddered and snapped his hand away from it, too scared to disturb it, whatever it was. "Oh my god, i'm an android. A cyborg. I'm Borg."  
  
A laugh filled the air then, and he snapped his head up to see the man covering his face with a hand, giggling uncontrollably. He smiled, despite of himself, and inched closer. If the man he shared his bed with was laughing about it, obviously it wasn't such a big deal.  
  
"I'm glad I amuse you, but can you please explain why I have some sort of tin can in my chest?" He asked as he crawled in next to him.  
  
The man flashed a knowing smirk and shook his head. "Even I cannot explain it fully, since you, yourself, created it. I can tell you, it keeps you alive, so I suggest you leave it be."  
  
"Noted, no tin can removal, may die."  
  
He was answered with more giggles, and reached out to swat the man's arm without thinking.

“Stop making fun of me for something I don't even understand.”  
  
"Ah, my apologies," he said, not sounding even remotely apologetic. "Rest now, and tomorrow you may understand my mirth."  
  
"Looking forward to it," Tony replied, snuggling into his pillow. He didn't close his eyes right away, however, choosing instead to study the face before him. How was he this comfortable with someone he didn't even know? It was just so... easy to be near him, even after the violence he faced earlier. He never actually felt threatened, just confused.  
  
"Who are you?" He asked one more time, watching those green eyes start to close.  
  
There wasn't a frown this time, but a fond smile when he answered.  
  
"You will know, in the morning."  
  


* * *

  
  
Loki refused to open his eyes, and he could not even remember falling asleep last night. He must have dozed off at some point, well after he mumbled the words for the spell, and even longer after Anthony had fallen asleep.  
  
The man was exhausted, and Loki was not surprised. It had been a long, painful day for both of them, and honestly, Loki was amazed that Anthony had not given into sleep much sooner.  
  
But now, it was morning, and never in his life had Loki been so eager and so afraid of a moment in time. He felt the body next to him tense, the deep breaths forming yawns and sleepy mutterings of nonsense. Loki went still, not even daring to breathe as he felt the man stretch before speaking.  
  
"Hi Lokes..."  
  
His eyes snapped open to see the smile he saw almost every morning, complete with dimpled cheeks, and eyes filled with love.  
  
"Anthony," he breathed, and cupped his face in his hands before kissing him. Anthony grunted when their lips parted, and Loki pulled his body closer. "Anthony, Anthony, _Anthony_..."  
  
"Loki, Loki, Loki."  
  
"Say it again," he begged softly.  
  
Anthony was still smiling, and whispered his name against his lips, "Loki..." He kissed him then, and as they parted once more, Anthony added in an even softer voice, "... I love you."  
  
Loki laughed, and if it was a little hysterical, Anthony would have to forgive him. He laughed loudly and happily, and kissed him again, and again, and after biting back the words so many times, Loki finally said,  
  
"I love you."  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Myosotis: Forget-me-not


End file.
